


The Vigils We Keep

by saintgenevieve



Series: The Grey Lady [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:08:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21657313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintgenevieve/pseuds/saintgenevieve
Summary: Liadan hissed a curse and leveled a glare at Nathaniel. “He attacked me in his dungeon full of people he’d tortured. We fought. Eventually, he collapsed from his wounds and spat, ‘Maker spit on you. I deserved more.’ And then he died.” Lightning fizzed in her dark hair.Warden-Commander Liadan Surana has her work cut out for her in Amaranthine.
Relationships: Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Anders/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Zevran Arainai/Female Warden
Series: The Grey Lady [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1556026
Kudos: 11





	1. Oghren

Watching that idiot Alistair moon over Liadan during the Blight had been pretty funny—like watching Garahel the mabari follow Morrigan around whimpering, begging for attention when Liadan had retired to her tent with her lover—but now all it did was make Oghren angry. Lia was young, a hero and a leader to be sure, but also very young. And she was his friend, the first he’d had in far too many years. Liadan had raised him up from nothing, forged him into a warrior again. He didn’t want her hurt.

“You should leave with the dawn, lad,” Oghren told the King, sitting down beside him and placing two large tankards of ale on the table.

“I—what?”

The dwarf lifted his cup and took several long swallows before setting it down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and giving Alistair a strange look from beneath his bushy brows. “You should leave with the dawn,” he said again, slower and a little slurred. He was already fairly drunk. “Liadan won’t say it but she don’t want you here. Hurts her to see you like it hurts me to think of Branka.”

Alistair looked stricken and Oghren felt a flicker of regret for being so blunt. Despite his newfound throne, the human man was also quite young. “I don’t want to hurt her, I only…I want to be near her.”

Oghren sighed and clapped a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “I know, lad,” he said, trying to be a little gentler. Stone, but he was bad at this. Perhaps it truly was a good thing he’d left Felsi and his delicate little daughter. “But sometimes the best thing you can do is leave.”

“I _need_ her.”

“I know the feeling. But you’ve got to give ‘er space.”

Alistair took a long draw of ale. “She told me that before she left, but….I miss her so much. I’m still not sure if I can do this without her.”

Oghren snorted. “Then you should ‘ave married ‘er and told the Landsmeet to go hump themselves. But you didn’t, and this is what you get. So leave with the dawn, lad, and don’t look back.”

After that they drank in silence, each contemplating their mistakes. Oghren missed Felsi, missed his little girl, but knew it would have been worse for everyone if he’d stayed. The only thing he was good for was killing things and doing what Liadan told him. That was all. At least he could be useful to someone though. 

“Did you have to get the King drunk?” Liadan asked exasperatedly, sometime after the room had started to spin, hands on her hips, head tilted to the side. 

“Aye, but it’s alright. He’ll leave tomorrow,” Oghren defended.

The King in question had passed out about half an hour before, snoring loudly, his tankard overturned. Liadan sighed and reached out, laying a hand on each of their shoulders, her healing magic washing over them. Alistair woke with a start, his face creased from the texture of the table. 

“You should go to bed, Your Majesty. If you’re leaving like Oghren said, then you’ll want to get some rest. The Seneschal will show you to your rooms,” she said gently. 

“I…uh…” He stood, looking wildly uncomfortable, and ambled over to where Varel stood, ready to lead the King to his chambers. 

Once they were gone, Liadan heaved a great sigh and sat down beside Oghren. “Any ale left?”

“Fer you, Commander? Always.” He grinned at her. 

Liadan smiled back. “You can just call me by my name, you know. I wouldn’t mind. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Aye. You’re my only friend.”

She elbowed him playfully. “Well, I’m sure you’ll make plenty here in the Vigil with the new Wardens I’ll have to recruit. You’ll have to get Anders drunk, at least, just to see what happens.”

“He won’t be able to hold his liquor,” Oghren predicted.

“A sovereign says you pass out before he does when you challenge him to a contest.”

The dwarf roared with laughter. “You’re on!”

Liadan placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. “I’m glad you’re here, Oghren. You’ll be an excellent Warden, I have no doubt.”

He swelled with pride. “Nowhere I’d rather be,” he declared. It was only a little bit of a lie.

She tapped her tankard against his and together they drank well into the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wanted to switch around the chapters a bit after adding this one because I wanted the timeline to be a little more coherent. Anyway, Oghren might be kinda gross, but I love him anyway.


	2. Anders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The nightmares get better, I promise,” she said, idly tugging at a lock of her hair and closing her book. “And the nausea fades after a day or two and is replaced by the most ridiculously voracious appetite known to man, dwarf, qunari, or elf.”

He slipped into her room in the dead of night, tired but unable to sleep. After his Joining, after seeing her again after an entire year when he’d been worried sick, after she’d freed him from the templars, he just needed…something. He wasn’t sure what he needed quite yet, but Liadan had always had a way of making him feel understood.

She was awake, the fire in her hearth bright, a book open in her lap. Sitting on her couch, small shoulders dwarfed by the blanket she’d draped over herself, she was so damn familiar it made his heart ache. His oldest, dearest friend. Liadan looked up and grinned at him, and he remembered when she was twelve and missing a tooth, hair a dark mop falling into her big eyes. “Anders,” she greeted warmly.

“Lia,” he said, taking a few steps toward her.

“You alright?”

“Fine. Just…having trouble sleeping.”

“The nightmares get better, I promise,” she said, idly tugging at a lock of her hair and closing her book. “And the nausea fades after a day or two and is replaced by the most ridiculously voracious appetite known to man, dwarf, qunari, or elf.”

“Of course. Anything else I should know?”

“We can sense darkspawn—they can also sense us, which is less useful, but we can tell when they’re near and even the smallest amount of warning can be the difference between life and death. And, the Grey Wardens don’t care about the use of blood magic. Isn’t that interesting? They don’t care about blood magic. Anything it takes to defeat the Blight.”

The last sentence sounded like she was quoting something.

He couldn’t help but shudder at the thought of lovely Liadan selling her soul to a demon. “Liadan, you didn’t—” He stumbled forward and sank to his knees before her. “It’s so dangerous.”

She rolled her eyes and gave him a fond look. “Says the escape artist.” She laid her hand on his cheek. “I’m not a blood mage, Anders. There was an…offer to learn, but the price was too high, so I turned it down. There are some lines that should _never_ be crossed.”

Sympathy tugged at Anders’ heart. “What’s happened to you? The last time I saw you, you were content—a little serious maybe and way too smart for your own good—but now you’re the most serious person I’ve ever met. You’re so unhappy, Liadan, like you’ve got the weight of the world on those narrow shoulders of yours.”

She sighed and looked away from the earnest expression on his face. “I’ve decided the fates of two kingdoms in the past year,” she said finally. “I ended a Blight in a year—something that’s never been done before—and survived killing an Archdemon. I should be dead, but I’m not. And I…I fell in love.”

Anders had always known that they were nothing more than friends, so her confession didn’t hurt him. Maybe they could have been more than that if they’d met out in the open world, not confined to a tower where love was nothing more than something one read about in Chantry-banned books. Liadan was more of a rebel than he could ever hope to be: the mage who had dared to fall in love. Looking up into her face, Anders wondered if love was what made her look so very sad. 

“With that Alistair, right? The King of Ferelden?” There was a teasing lilt to his tone, but Anders was deathly serious. If that handsome ass had hurt Liadan, he’d find himself quite thoroughly hexed at some point.

“Yes. Him. And before you ask, no we’re not together now because the Landsmeet would never accept me as queen. It’s for the best that it’s over; we both have a duty to Ferelden.”

“You’re the Hero of Bloody Ferelden,” Anders felt the need to point out.

Liadan tucked her hair back behind one delicately pointed ear.

“Ah. And you’re a mage.” He paused for a moment thinking, and then grinned up at her. “You’d have made a good queen, though.”

Liadan tugged at his earring in retaliation, and Anders was comforted to know she hadn’t changed too much. She was still his best friend. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like my headcannon that the mage warden and Anders knew each other and were friends. Their dynamic is really fun to write.


	3. Nathaniel

Nathaniel Howe plucked at his bowstring nervously. He’d only ever ridden through this area on his way to somewhere else, and the great chasm that split the ground made him uneasy in a way he couldn’t explain. He felt as though he was standing atop an anthill, feeling a thousand, thousand swarming creatures moving beneath him, on their way up to drag him down into the dark depths. He hated being a Grey Warden.

“Alright, this is what we’re going to do: Nathanial, Sigrun, and Oghren, you’re with me. We’re going down to Kal'Hirol and we’re going to deal with the broodmothers. Anders, you go back to Vigil’s Keep and tell them what we’re doing and where we’re going. If we’re not back within a week, send word to Weisshaupt and tell them what’s happened.”

Anders paled considerably. “Liadan—”

She leaned forward, eyes intense, face solemn and full of command. “You don’t like enclosed places, Anders, and the Deep Roads are nothing but. Do this for me, please.”

He nodded. “Yes, Commander.”

She turned to face Nate and the two dwarves. “We go down in five minutes. Be ready.” And then she moved away, turning toward the sun and closing her eyes, face seeking the warmth like a sunflower in what had once been his mother’s garden.

So, he turned to Oghren. “Were you there when my father was killed?”

Oghren sighed. “Don't go digging in the dust for things laid to rest. It does no one any good.”

“Whatever people say about him, he was still my father. And I just want to know if he... if he suffered,” Nathanial said bitterly.

“I'm not the person to ask.”

“Very well, Oghren. Evade the question.”

Liadan hissed a curse and leveled a glare at Nathaniel. “He attacked me in his dungeon full of people he’d tortured. We fought. Eventually, he collapsed from his wounds and spat, ‘Maker spit on you. I deserved more.’ And then he died.” Lightning fizzed in her dark hair.

Nathaniel took a step back and resisted the urge to reach for his dagger. Behind Liadan, Oghren had a gleam in his eye and was leaning against his gigantic battle-axe. If it was to be a fight, Liadan and Oghren could take him down easy.

“Now, let's get this over with. There are darkspawn to be killed.”

*

The screeching of the childer hatchlings made Nathaniel’s head ache but he fired arrow after arrow into the fray, each one finding its target with a wet crunch or a squelch. Darkspawn were truly disgusting creatures. When all the foul monsters were finally dead, Liadan leaned heavily against her staff and declared that they were taking a break.

She searched about until she found a side passage free of the darkspawn’s growth and sank down onto the dusty stone. She looked tired to Nathaniel and surprisingly young. He’d heard she was only twenty, but he hadn’t quite believed it until they’d met. He’d expected someone far different from the exhausted young spirit healer before him. He settled a few feet away and pulled out one of his daggers to clean.

“I’m sorry about what I said before. I _loathe_ coming down here and I took it out on you. It’s natural that you would be curious about your father’s death—having witnessed my mother’s murder I can relate to hoping for a lack of suffering.”

“ _You_ watched your mother die?”

Liadan shrugged. “When the templars came for me in the Alienage, my mother tried to protect me. She was an apostate of significant skill—summoned a blizzard beneath the vhenadahl tree and killed two of the bastards before the third cast a holy smite on her and drove his sword through her stomach. Then he dragged me away, kicking and screaming, her blood still dripping from his blade.” Her eyes were distant. “I understand the desire for revenge—better than you might know.”

“Did you ever kill him?”

“No. But should we ever meet again I’ll make him shit himself at the very least.”

And suddenly, Nate found he could no longer hate her. “What you said before…were those really my father’s final words?”

She nodded. “Don’t worry, though.”

“Worry about what?”

Liadan reached out and placed her small, cool hand on his. “You’re nothing like him—not needlessly cruel or heartless. You have the potential to be a good man, and a good Grey Warden. I believe you can be better than him; it’s why I recruited you in the first place.”

Nate chuckled. “I thought it was because you had a death wish.”

The mage smirked. “Well, that too, I suppose.”

“Oye! Enough chit-chat, Commander!” Oghren yelled. “Let’s get to movin’. The sooner we kill those broodmothers, the sooner we can celebrate!”

“Of course,” Liadan said, standing up. She held out her hand and helped Nathaniel to his feet. The ends of her mouth quirked up. “Onward and downwards.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I love Awakening. I really do. The combat can be a little tedious, but Anders is so well written and I love all the banter and Nate is just so full of angst that I want to squeeze his cheeks. I adore him, and his nose.


	4. Sigrun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sigrun thought for a moment before answering. “Yes. Sort of. Before I joined the Legion of the Dead, most of the people around me treated me like I was worth less than the dust beneath their feet. I was dirt poor and willing to do anything to survive. But after I joined, I felt like I was part of something. I was worth something, you know?” She sighed. “But I still abandoned my battalion because I was afraid.”
> 
> Sigrun and Liadan chat and get into a bar fight.

“Do you ever miss Orzarmar?” Liadan asked her newest companion quietly, voice pitched low so as not to be heard over the din of the assorted patrons of The Crown and Lion. 

“I don’t know. A little, maybe. Do you miss…wherever you came from? Sorry, I don’t think I know.” Sigrun felt embarrassed that she didn’t know, especially after what Liadan had just done for her with Mischa. 

Liadan laughed and took a swig of her ale. “I was born in Denerim, Ferelden’s capital city, in the Alienage—which is the shitty place they make all the elves live if the city is big enough. The humans prefer us out of sight.” 

“So elves are treated like the casteless, then?”

“A little. And I do miss Denerim, and the Alienage, sometimes. I was taken from my family when I was very young and sent to the Circle of Magi. I lived there for ten years before I was recruited to the Grey Wardens. Kinloch Hold wasn’t as bad as some Circles, but the templars were always watching, waiting for the tiniest hint of corruption, the smallest proof of blood magic. The only good thing about the Circle is that elves and humans are treated the same.” Liadan’s face twisted with bitterness. 

“I take it you don’t miss the Circle, then?”

“No. And I have Anders with me now, so there’s nothing left for me there. With any luck, I’ll never have to go back. Neither of us will.” Her expression softened. “Did it make you angry…how you were treated for something as ridiculous as an accident of birth?”

Sigrun thought for a moment before answering. “Yes. Sort of. Before I joined the Legion of the Dead, most of the people around me treated me like I was worth less than the dust beneath their feet. I was dirt poor and willing to do anything to survive. But after I joined, I felt like I was part of something. I was  _ worth _ something, you know?” She sighed. “But I still abandoned my battalion because I was afraid.”

“I’ve done plenty of foolish things because I was afraid,” Liadan confessed. “And you’re still worth something, Sigrun. You are worthy of friendship and kindness and joy, no matter what you’ve done in your past. I promise.” She laid her hand on Sigrun’s. 

“How do you know?” There was genuine curiosity in the dwarf’s voice. 

Liadan shrugged. “Because you were willing to give up something precious to settle a debt. Because you’re a person, and most people are deserving of kindness and mercy. There are very few things that are truly unforgivable, that you can’t come back from. I have to believe that.”

“You’re pretty weird, you know that?”

The elf laughed. “I’ve been told that, once or twice.” 

“You’re alright, though,” Sigrun admitted, giving her a cheeky smile. 

“Would you like me more if I bought the next round?”

“Absolutely!”

Liadan grinned and rose, and began to make her way towards the bar and the bartender. And then a man grabbed her wrist and tried to pull her into his lap. Anders and Nathaniel, who had been deep in conversation, debating about something while Liadan and Sigrun talked, both bristled. Nate reached for one of his daggers, surprising Sigrun with his loyalty to the Warden-Commander. For a moment, it seemed nobody in the tavern room breathed. 

“Get your hands off me,” Liadan snarled at the man, wrenching herself from his grasp. 

“Come on, knife-ear. Be a good girl.”

Her eyes narrowed and lightning crackled between her fingers. “I am Warden-Commander Liadan Surana, Arlessa of Amaranthine and the Hero of Ferelden,” she informed him, cold as ice. “Touch me or call me ‘knife-ear’ again and you’ll regret it.” 

The man stood. “You’re a knife-eared bitch, good for nothing but a quick fuck in an alleyway.” 

Before she could think or stop herself, Sigrun was up on the table. She threw one of her daggers, and it hit the table the man had been sitting at, spilling his drink. “Don’t talk to the Commander that way!”

Nate and Anders stood as well, glaring. Liadan threw them a grateful look, before turning back to her adversary. “Sit back down and maybe you’ll escape this night with your dignity intact. You don’t want to fight four Grey Wardens.” 

He spat at her feet. In answer, she punched him so hard he fell back into the table. It buckled beneath his weight but didn’t break. And then the whole room was full of hollering, the sound of glass breaking and chairs being smashed. Through the struggle, Sigrun found her way to Liadan, and together the two of them taught the nasty man and his friends a lesson they wouldn’t soon forget.

And even though Seneschal Varel later scolded the four of them for getting into a bar fight in the first place, Sigrun couldn’t regret it. Liadan had given her a place, had offered her friendship and a way to more effectively kill darkspawn. The only thing she did regret was that she hadn’t had the chance to really mess up the asshole who had dared to disrespect her Commander. Oh well, she’d get the next. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I love Sigrun. She's so cheerful and cheeky, and she's so great.


End file.
